


To Drown in Darkness

by AnOrcaLullaby



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Rape, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 16:21:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3296854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnOrcaLullaby/pseuds/AnOrcaLullaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Never go into the black lake. Harry should’ve listened to the warning that was seared into his mind throughout his childhood. For if he fails in bringing the spirit who drowned there his murderer, Harry will find his grave at the bottom of dark waters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Drown in Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> I've put most of things I need to warn about in the tags. Keep in mind that this is a dark story, not terribly dark but no fluff or happy ending.

There was a lake not far from Harry’s town Little Whinging where the water was dark and sinister, where if you were to submerge your hand in it your eyes would no longer be able to see your flesh. Children told stories where innocent kind people were dragged underneath, their lungs filled to the brim with the inky black water suffocating the life they helplessly and desperately clung onto in futile effort. Perhaps the cause of the lake’s appearance was that someone _did_ meet that horrible fate. It didn’t matter, Harry supposed, for the issue was not about the past but the present.

Foolishly he had gotten himself involved with such childish games of truth and dare with a few friends who’d dragged him over to the local pub, dragged because he always refused the invitation to socialise there. That resulted in him being in this terrifying predicament. His shirt had been discarded next to his feet leaving him feeling vulnerable and exposed, goose bumps crawling over his skin from the frigid air of the night as he stood by the shore. The water lapped against his toes, enticing him to enter its murky depths. Harry turned around to look up the hill where the others waited. He could hear their laughs ringing through the air and yearned to be up there with them. But if he were to retreat he’d be branded as a coward. So Harry faced the water again that not even the moonlight could pierce. All that was required of him was to completely submerge himself in the lake, then he could flee back to the safety of his town and dingy flat.

Uneasily with fingers trembling, Harry undid his belt and allowed denim to pool around his ankles. His heart pounded erratically, deafening him as his bones chilled with fear at what he was about to do. With a deep breath and ignoring every muscle that screamed at him to turn around and run, he lifted a foot and allowed it to vanish in the darkness. Water cold as ice welcomed him as it brushed against his ankle causing shivers to course through Harry’s body. Then with another deep breath, he picked up the other foot and let the cold envelope it as well.

Trying his best not to think, Harry waded deeper until the water was at his knees and then soaking the hem of his boxers. If he survived this, he’d probably just die of pneumonia later. The floor of the lake was not the slick of moss and grime Harry expected. Instead the dirt was soft but firm and his toes did not sink with each step he took. It was unnatural and should have been a clue to Harry to get out of there immediately since the black water wasn’t enough of a bad omen to frighten him off. Yet he continued and his torso was soon submerged and then shoulders until Harry was standing on his tiptoes to keep his chin above.

The pressure of the water against his lithe frame was suffocating. His lungs felt crushed under the heavy weight and Harry’s gasps for breaths were only achieved through a struggle of life and death. With the push of his legs Harry could no longer feel the bottom as he wrestled to stay afloat so far out from the shore. He idly wondered what the others would do if he were to drown. Well, his relatives would surely be overjoyed about the announcement of his death. But Harry had absolutely no intention of dying here tonight in this lake that screamed it would take his life if he went under to where the heavens couldn’t see him.

Taking a deep breath, Harry allowed himself to be completely immersed in the murky black water.

Underneath the surface, the lake was even icier. It moved his hair gently around his head as it softly rubbed against his glasses and prodded his lips begging to come in. Every single one of his fingers had gone numb leaving him feeling like a block of ice simply floating in that black void. There was no hint of any life and there was no roar of water in his ears. Underneath the lake there was only silence aside from the rapid beating of Harry’s heart.

As Harry kicked a leg to return to the safety of the world above, he found his attempt was in vain for some force had wrapped around his ankle keeping him in place. He thrashed in desperation and his lungs burned pleading with him to breathe. The force curled up his legs to squeeze against his ribs continuing across his chest where his heart was pounding frantically threatening to burst out of Harry’s body. What felt like long slender fingers firmly gripped his neck and another set rested on his waist. Harry could not fathom what it was though for he was absolutely certain that no other person was in this lake with him. Squirming against the tight hold, Harry’s only thought was that he needed to break free and live. But with a yank he found himself being dragged farther down and as he futilely reached his fingers to where the moon was fear grasped his heart as he realised this was to be how he died. As his lungs’ need for air overwhelmed him, Harry opened his mouth and the dark water flooded in. His mind was no longer functioning and darkness overcame him as that force continued bringing him down. Losing consciousness, the last thing he was aware of was a silky voice whispering in his ear.

“Not yet.”

 

* * *

 

Harry sucked in air. And subsequently coughed until his throat rasped and felt destroyed. Opening an eye, he was staring up at the constellation of Leo. He lay there not feeling or thinking as he took in the world above the lake. Then with shock, Harry bolted upright and found himself at the opposite shore from where he had first begun his trek into the water. He was alive and breathing. The question though was _why_ was he alive. Leaning over the water, Harry prodded at the it. Then the blackness rippled as a being emerged from the black so that its jaw rested on the surface of the lake.

It seemed to be made of the same substance as the jet black water, skin smooth and white as ivory as hair the colour of midnight framed its head in waves. The features of its face appeared chiselled and slowly eyes opened to gaze crimson at Harry’s wide emerald orbs. They stared at each other, eyes unwavering.

Then thin black lips opened and that silky voice from earlier filled the air between them, “You must have a death wish. No one has ever stepped foot in my domain much less than attempt to swim in it.” Harry could not formulate a response to this thing’s statement. From what he knew about water, it certainly couldn’t speak. “So tell me child, what has compelled you to swim where no man has since the darkness settled in?” Still, Harry found he didn’t know what to say. He was afraid of this thing and believed that if he accidently insulted it the price would be his life. The other seemed to sense his unease for it simply resumed speaking, “I am Voldemort, the spirit that resides in this lake since the day of my untimely murder. It would be wise to answer my questions child for I do not have a substantial amount of patience. If it were not for my mercy, your body would currently be at the bottom of the lake. I am still considering dragging you down and will if you prove to be of no use for me.”

Quietly while trying to discreetly lean away from the water, “It was a dare.” His attempt at escape though was noticed and with great speed the spirit reached out with long slippery fingers grabbing Harry’s ankle in a vice grip. With a pull, its body broke through the water’s surface so that its torso could be seen as Harry slipped into the water. The deathly pale skin was illuminated by the light of the moon, every black water droplet and stream shimmering. Ribs were sickly outlined and they rose and fell with the being’s breathing.

“If I were you, I would not attempt to run. It was your own foolishness that got you into this predicament. _Please elaborate_ ,” it purred enticingly, fingers digging into Harry’s skin painfully.

Mouth dry and trying to steady his voice, “I was dared to submerge myself in the lake. They would’ve called me a coward if I didn’t and everyone in town would’ve known.”

A sigh filled with pity escaped that sadistic smirk as Voldemort pulled himself closer, “You poor _sweet_ child. What a _cruel_ situation you were forced into by those that are supposed to be your friends.” Its entire body was out of the water now, water dripping down the lean frame onto Harry as it came closer to rest beside him. A moist slick hand took hold of Harry’s cheek so that he could not turn away from that fixated gaze. “What are you called my dear?”

Flinching at the freezing contact, “Harry.”

“ _Harry,”_ those lips curled around every letter and drew out the last syllable. “How much do you love life?” Thinking it was a trick question, Harry stayed silent. The thing leaned in close and its thumb rubbed over Harry’s lips sending an uncomfortable shiver down his spine. “ _Speak_.”

Clenching his fists to keep from trembling, “A lot.”

“I could take it away from you.” Its other hand was now on the other side of Harry’s face. “I could drag you back into the lake and watch you helplessly fight for life, the light in your eyes growing smaller to finally be snuffed out. You could learn what it’s like to drown in darkness. Do you like the sound of that?”

Feeling weak at those horrific words, “No.”

“And you shouldn’t want that to happen to you. Therefore,” Voldemort released Harry’s head to grab his wrist, “I will make a deal with you.” Harry’s eye scanned the thing’s entire body. And discovered it was in fact male. Blushing, Harry began to avert his gaze before noticing something. The spirit’s leg was extended so that he merged with the water. Perhaps he was bound through the water to the lake. “Beginning at midnight, I will give you three days to complete a very special task that will determine your fate which currently is in my hands.”

Knowing it was a bad decision, Harry pulled with all his might away from the creature in desperation to keep alive. He tumbled backward though and his back slammed into the ground. Then he felt his hips painfully clutched and yanked closer to the lake. Harry thrashed in vain and as his legs sunk into the dark water his efforts doubled and he tried to push the spirit away but as his knuckles came into contact with icy skin they were seized and shoved above his head with one hand. His chin was gripped with the other and those eyes looked down at him in a blood coloured fury as the creature’s body loomed over Harry’s frame.

“That pretty head of yours appears to only be filled with terrible decisions. Perhaps I should not even bother asking you to do this as I’m fearful you will fail to bring me what I want. After all, you should have known that with your first step in my lake that you gave yourself away to death. You have one more chance at listening to my bargain _Harry_.” The spirit paused in his speech, as if seeing if Harry had the audacity to protest. With nothing coming from the boy’s mouth, he continued, “I was murdered years ago, drowned in this very lake. It is the reason for the darkness. My murderer still breathes however. What I want is for you to bring him to me. If you succeed by the third midnight, I will let you live.” Voldemort leaned back and with a snap of Harry’s wrist toward him had the boy upright as the spirit continued to straddle his hips. “If you fail, your life will be mine to extinguish. Of course, you can refuse my offer but that will end with your immediate death.” The spirit came closer so that it’s wet frosty lips brushed Harry’s ear, “What will you choose?”

Harry’s mouth was dry as he weighed his options. To either offer up another to be killed or be killed himself. This was a cruel game Voldemort was playing. But if the person he was giving up was a murderer, then didn’t that person deserve it anyways? With voice unsteady and barely audible, “I’ll bring you your murderer.”

“Very good.” A frosty kiss was placed on his cheek causing Harry to recoil away. His movement was tsked at, “Now, now my dear. You may walk away alive at the end of this, but no matter what you will be mine eternally.” Harry let out a hiss of pain as his left wrist was clenched so tightly the blood wasn’t flowing. Voldemort’s thumb pushed into his pulse causing a whimper to break from Harry’s throat. The sound prompted the spirit to lay a hollow kiss against his forehead. “Hush child. This will only take a moment.” Harry watched as the water covering the creature’s thumb oozed into his own skin. The blackness spread in swirls, painting a skull with a snake slithering out from it forming a figure eight. “With this mark, you are mine. Remember, if you do not bring me my murderer by the third midnight, then you will be the one to die.” Suddenly Harry found his lips being crushed and as water spilled into his mouth he began spluttering and choking. As he was released, Harry promptly spat the bitter tasting water out. A chuckle of mirth came from the other, “I look forward to seeing you again _my sweet Harry_. And do remember that if you fail, _I will make you drown._ ”

The spirit receded back into the water and vanished, as if he had never been there. Harry could only sit there, breathing heavily as his entire body shook from true fear. He rubbed at the mark hoping to God that it would vanish just like Voldemort. But has he rubbed and rubbed and as his skin became pink and bruised the mark remained. Gritting his teeth, Harry kicked at the water causing a loud splash and subsequent sadistic laughter to ring through the air. This was all his stupid foolish self’s fault.

 

* * *

 

Harry awoke the next morning with the sun shining brightly through his blinds. He lay there on his side, staring at the glow cast upon the floor. It was so radiant upon the golden wood. There was no sound except for his own soft breathing and Harry felt so serene. As he sat upright though, he noticed a small speck of black on his wrist underneath his sleeve. Pulling the clothe to his elbow revealed the sinister mark and the night’s even came rushing back nearly causing a sharp cry to escape Harry’s throat.  

Frantically he tumbled from his bed to the bathroom as bile rose in his throat. He spent the next few minutes emptying up everything in his stomach until he lay there exhausted upon the cold tiled floor heaving up nothing and hiccupping pitifully. He shouldn’t have agreed to do this. Even if whoever he was to bring Voldemort was a murderer, he didn’t have the right to lead the person to death. Sacrificing another so that Harry could live was a terrible reason. His life would be filled with nothing but guilt and regret that would probably drive him to commit suicide. No matter what path Harry took, he was still going to die. But if he succeeded in the spirit’s terms, his death would not leave him bound forever to that black lake. Harry looked down at the mark once again. If only he could remove that, then perhaps that would cut the tie.

He fumbled about for his razor and as he held it in his shaky grip, sliced the blade across his wrist. Blood began seeping out, decorating the blade and trickling down his wrist in narrow streaks. The thin hairs of his arm stood straight up from the chill of the metal as he came down to break his skin again. Blood covered the black mark, the mix causing a crimson shade to colour his flesh. He could feel his pulse underneath the cold metal as he ran it across again furthering his disfigurement of the mark. Harry held up his wrist to look at his messy handiwork, the black lines jagged and mutilated. A searing pain shot through though causing him to stagger, colliding with the wall and sliding down into a foetal position clutching at his wrist. Thousands of needles and pins felt as though they were simultaneously stabbing metres through every single one of his nerves. As Harry grit his teeth against it, he felt as though his teeth were all going to fly out of his mouth from the force he was trying to combat such agony with. Black water oozed out from the wounds and sunk into his skin, redrawing every line Harry had tried to destroy. They sent a shiver throughout his entire body as they closed the gaps in his flesh leaving a burning sensation. With horror, Harry slowly flexed his wrist as he opened and closed his fingers. The only hint that he’d ever cut himself was the crisp blood on the ends of his hair. Harry’s heart plummeted at the understanding that he was truly bound to the spirit of the black lake. Voldemort’s words echoed through his head.

_With this mark, you are mine._

Feeling weak and nauseous, Harry began to run the water of his shower. He stepped into the scalding hot steam hoping it would cleanse his sorry soul. As the soft pattering of water against his shoulders drowned out his sorrows, a soft silky voice echoed through the shower, “How insulting of you to attempt to remove my mark Harry.”

The boy’s emerald orbs widened. No, Voldemort wasn’t here. He couldn’t be.

“I _am_ water and water is what is raining down on you currently.” Heart hammering against his chest, Harry hastily shut the water off and toppled out. “Bring me my murderer…,” the voice faded away until just the faint memory remained to echo within Harry’s skull. He was going to be sick again. There were two and half days until Voldemort would take his life if he failed to bring the spirit his murderer. Quickly Harry dressed; he didn’t want to discover what it felt like to drown.

* * *

 

The library held all the records of Little Whinging. If the death had been in an article, it would be found here. Harry sat at the back table with his head buried in research. His stack of books held the accounts of all murders that happened about the same time the lake began to blacken. Harry had managed to figure out the year of the event: 1971. That was thirty years ago, nine years before he was even born. Other than though, Harry had absolutely no leads. It wasn’t as though murders happened everyday, nonetheless every single one documented. He had been sitting in this spot for hours and yet he was nowhere close to figuring out who murdered Voldemort.

Feeling defeated, Harry left the stuffy building to clear his head. The town was void of life with an overcast of a grey haze that threatened to spill water from above. An occasional car passed him as he walked down the broken sidewalk. Harry didn’t think there was enough time to find the murderer, there were too many things to consider. The individual may not even live in Little Whinging anymore. They could be in America for all Harry knew. Besides, how was he supposed to figure out the murderer if he didn’t even know who died? He had looked up Voldemort but found absolutely nothing except for the French translation of the name: flight from or of death. Harry had come to the conclusion that the name had been self bestowed. The light of day was waning away and still Harry didn’t know what direction would take him to his answers.

At the feel of dirt under his shoes, Harry stopped in his tracks. His feet had taken him to the isolated playground he frequently visited as a child. There was a single rickety swing with blue paint peeling off of ugly orange rusted metal. A slide was the only other equipment and half of it leaned down on the ground due to its broken and bent legs. Harry went over to the swing and gingerly sat on the edge as a high pitched squeak pierced the evening air. He looked out to where the sky met the earth. As his gaze went over the land he noticed the old broken down house that sat on the hill overlooking the graveyard. No one had lived there for years, since from around the time the lake became cursed. What was the family’s surname…Harry failed to recall it. But he knew that the most embellished tombstones belonged to them. If he could get the spirit’s real name, he would be one step closer to figuring out who murdered him.

The old iron gate creaked as Harry pried it open to venture inside the graveyard. Dirt and moss squished underneath every step he took and statues of angels towered far above his head. The trek up the hill felt like a lifetime as the darkness took control of the territory leaving Harry in a pitch black world. At the highest point of the graveyard was a statue of the grim reaper, its stone turned a mossy green over the years subjected to the elements. Its magnificent form protected the graves of those that lived in what had probably been a beautiful manor housing the most influential people in Little Whinging. The most recent addition was at the statue’s feet and there Harry kneeled. With his sleeve, he rubbed the dew and grime off the embellished words and after much squinting to try to make out the letters in the dark Harry read what it said: _Here lies_ _Tom Marvolo Riddle, December 31, 1949 – May 2, 1971_. He was only a year older than Harry when he died. It was then that Harry realised the year, even the month, was the same as when the lake darkened.

This had to be the spirit.

“Tom,” Harry spoke aloud. No wonder the spirit called himself Voldemort. Tom didn’t exactly strike fear into the hearts of men. He had a name now, or at least a probable suspect of who was murdered. Harry would have to research Tom in the library tomorrow for the building was closed this late in the evening.

Only two more full days until time was up.

 

* * *

 

 Harry truly needed to revaluate his life’s decisions. He stood in the bathroom of the library, hand posed to turn the faucet on. Earlier that morning he’d skipped showering to avoid talking to Voldemort again. But all morning long he’d been researching Tom Riddle and discovered nothing more than that he went missing and was simply declared dead. The man had no living relatives and there was nothing giving Harry insight into his relations with the town people except that he was obviously wealthy and regarded highly. Even if he made contact with the creature, there was probably only a minute chance he would be answered honestly. Oh well, no matter what Harry was going to die one way or another.

Tentatively he turned the knob and as water began filling the basin he whispered, “Voldemort?” The liquid began to swirl and turn a murky colour.

“ _Harry_ ,” that sickly sweet voice crooned, “how nice of you to converse with me. There must be no other option then if you are this willing to make contact. Tell me, what is the reason for your call?”

Throat going dry but trying to sound brave, “I need answers. How am I supposed to bring you your murderer if I don’t even know who killed you?” A cruel laughter erupted in tiny bubbles from the sink.

“ _My dear child_ , I never said it was going to be easy. With your lack of intelligence, I doubt you will actually get close to solving the mystery anyway.” Harry’s nails dug into the marble at the insult.

Through clenched teeth, “Are you Tom Marvolo Riddle?” He was met with a tense silence.

Then Voldemort slowly began speaking, “Perhaps I misjudged you. You do seem to have some intelligence in that daft head of yours. How about I tell you a riddle to assist you? Consider it a reward.” The swirling began to slow, “ _What you seek hides behind glass, of a time long past, and every day its home you pass, in your town so vast_.” And even as the swirls stopped and the water stilled, Harry kept staring down hoping for further explanation.

He sort of understood each phrase, but other than that he was completely lost. It was something about the past and it was behind glass. Harry understood that concept but didn’t know what the thing was. Then there was the part about how he saw the place everyday. And that last line, Harry thought it was obvious that the place would have to be within Little Whinging. Voldemort, or Tom really, probably just wanted the rhyme to sound sophisticated. What was usually put behind glass? He could think of too many things.  Harry left the library to wander the streets.

Unlike yesterday, he took special care to really observe his surroundings as he walked out. Little Whinging was your average small town in England. It had its main streets meet in the centre with all the most important buildings there as well. Harry stood at the corner, peering down one lane and then the next. Voldemort said he’d have to pass by the place, and Harry was quite certain it was a building of sorts, every day. He chose a random street and headed down it hoping that today luck was on his side.

The sky was growing darker and the wind was picking up in great bursts causing leaves and dirt to fly through the air. A flash of lightening struck down in the distance, closely followed by a crash of thunder causing Harry’s shoulders to tense and entire body to become still.

“May what else that usually happens in storms _not_ happen,” Harry prayed. But his plea went unanswered and the first drop of rain fell from the heavens with the rest of the torrent following at its heel. Harry bolted. There was absolutely no way he was going to be out here in a storm. He dashed into a random building, nearly tripping, and recognised where he was after a few minutes. One of the most boring parts of town Harry’s opinion, the museum of Little Whinging. How dull it was inside with all these useless facts about such an insignificant town. As his eyes skimmed the room though, Harry noticed the glass displays were guarding old photographs. _What you seek is behind glass._  That’s what Voldemort had told him. He had stumbled upon where the place was, now that was left was to find the clue. Easier said than done.

While the museum was not overwhelming large, Harry wasn’t sure exactly what it was that he was looking for. Not knowing that made the search incredibly difficult. The afternoon slowly transitioned into the evening as time went by slowly with no reward. Harry had inspected every faded photograph and old wrinkled document leaving every glass surface covered in the traces of his fingerprints. There was no fruit to his labour and Harry feared he would never find whatever it was he was looking for.

Perhaps this wasn’t the place. If that were the case, then there was no hope for Harry as too much time had been wasted away. Everything he did from here on out would be pointless. It would be so much easier to just surrender himself to the spirit, to give up what little ownership he had of his own life away and enter the void of nothingness. But that was not how Harry worked. He would struggle until his very last breath to still have a say in his dim empty future.

It was during this sinking of his heart that Harry’s fingers rested upon the glass protecting a very miniscule photograph in the darkest corner of the room. He only recognized one of the men: Vernon Dursley, his uncle full of spite and contempt at those more fortunate than him and taking advantage of those weaker. Harry felt a chill coarse throughout his body down to his toes looking at that terrible face. There was only a date crudely scribbled out below the photo: _April 27, 1971._ Harry leaned down to inspect the picture more closely. Four men stood in front of the opening of the then newly remodelled library. Vernon stood toward the back and a familiar looking man stood in the front. The figure had black wavy hair that neatly framed his face and eyes that appeared sharp and cold. He was the tallest of the four and also the palest, as if he rarely saw the light of day. Harry stumbled back as he grasped who the man was. Tom Marvolo Riddle. Voldemort. The creature who put Harry on the spiralling path to death and hell. Was Harry’s uncle the one responsible for the spirit’s death? Or did he know something about it? There was no time to delve on the possibilities. Harry need to act and he needed to act _now_ to get more information _._ Midnight was steadily approaching and with it the day of Harry’s last chance.

Harry shut out every horror and nightmare associated with Vernon as he quickly made his way across town to the cursed house he’d been forced to grow up in.

 

* * *

 

The streetlamps illuminated the mist in a heavenly glow as Harry made his way down Privet Drive. How odd it felt going to break into the house he’d sworn never return to, memories of that place making him wake with cries and screams every so often in the middle of the night. Harry was fighting against the shriek of every memory pleading with him to turn back toward someplace so much safer. A place that did not bear the stains of his own blood and wood soaked with tears at the cruelty his tiny frame had been forced to endure. But this had to be done and Harry would do it.

The house was completely dark at the late hour, the people inside slumbering away. If one twisted and turned the doorknob a certain way, the back door was easy to open. Even after three years of his absence here the same old trick proved to still hold true. How exhilarating and frightening to step into this house. Harry’s legs threatened to give out and his heart threatened to wake the occupants. The feeling was not foreign though for Harry had trekked through the house at the late hours of the night the same way years ago. When everyone else was asleep, little Harry would make the journey from his cupboard under the stairs to the kitchen to eat even the tiniest morsel he thought the Dursleys would not notice to be missing. Now here he was again, risking his neck for information on Vernon. 

Any insight to his uncle's relation with Tom Riddle would be located in his study. Never before had Harry dared to step foot into this particular room. The oak desk was piled high with papers and notes and the lush chairs had not even the smallest speck of grim on them. Bookcases were decorated in elegant looking nick-knacks that had no other purpose than to show off their wealth. Harry stood by the desk and began leafing through documents and rummaging around in the crammed drawers. It was in the bottom drawer that he discovered newspaper articles and old tea stained notes. The articles were dated all the way back to 1971 and before. Every one had at least some small mention of the Riddles. There was a particular line that caught Harry’s eye in one of them. _Due to a privacy contract, information on the Riddles is limited and only statements that have been authorized are allowed to be printed._ That would explain why there was hardly anything on them. Most of the articles were covered in Vernon’s writing. Things like _I did this not that wretched Riddle_ and _This was to be my accomplishment you insolent prat_. At the very bottom of the drawer, Harry found the evidence that cemented his uncle as Voldemort’s killer. It was a receipt for a drug that would quickly put someone to sleep with the words _I’ll drown you_ written across. So then, Vernon had drugged Tom and let the man drown in the lake because of some childish envy? Harry wasn’t surprised his uncle had such a deadly secret.

Hatred and contempt took hold of Harry’s heart. The man who abused and put him through hell was the same person he was to bring to Voldemort to be drowned. How fitting. They could both get their sweet revenge. The images of Vernon thrashing about in the water, his face pale with horror as he screamed for mercy sent a shiver of thrill down Harry’s spine. His uncle would be receiving no such thing from Harry. The man had never once relented when Harry himself sobbed and begged crumbled up on the floorboards as lash after lash of the man’s belt came crashing down on every piece of his skin. But as the onslaught of memories took hold of Harry’s mind, his entire frame shook. Biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, he desperately tried not to cry. Not now of all times.

As he crossed the living room, the light flicked on and blinded Harry. He covered his eyes and staggered back into the wall stricken with terror.

His aunt’s shrill voice shook the windows, “How dare you! Thief! Devil’s spawn! I could have left you to _die_ on my doorstep those years ago! But I took you in and sheltered you! This is how you repay me? _Robbing me_? Curse your parents for dying and leaving you to me!”

Harry pitifully whimpered, “I-“

“Vile brat! If you’d have come tomorrow night, Vernon would’ve had your head! Lucky for your scrawny ungrateful neck he isn’t here tonight! Now get out or I’ll call the police!” Not wasting time, Harry tumbled out of there through the door into the rain dashing down Privet Drive far away from the place of his nightmares. But his Aunt had let a vital piece of information slip from her lips. Vernon wouldn’t return until tomorrow night.

But as Harry continued running, the clock struck midnight and the tolls of bells made the torrents of rain shiver and the ground tremble.

Today was his last chance.

 

* * *

 

Fingertips danced on Harry’s skin, rubbing against every sensitive place as they trailed down his sides. They prodded and brushed against his ribs to finally squeeze his waist painfully, Harry’s throat emitting a gasp.  Lips sucked and kissed his collarbone leaving a wet icy trail. They travelled up his neck in bites tearing his flesh brutally and blood trickled down Harry’s Adam Apple, rising and falling with each breath. Nails dug into his inner thigh breaking skin there and Harry could feel blood dripping down his legs. Heat was pooling in his groin causing his member to harden begging to be touched and brought to the point of release. His ear was savagely pulled by sharp teeth causing Harry’s body to thrust upward against his will. A trail of bloody kisses went from his torn ear to the corner of his parted lips that was allowing every breath and moan to tumble out. Then slick lips against his own purred in a nauseating sweet voice.

“ _I will make you drown_.”

And as Harry was crushed against that moist slippery mouth water tumbled across his tongue spilling down his throat and wind pipe causing his lungs to fill up with the dark water and he choked and spluttered and kicked but there was no way out and he couldn’t breathe anymore and the darkness was filling his vision-

The white ceiling of Harry’s flat was above him and underneath his sheets dampened with sweat and rainwater from last night. His ragged breaths and panting filled the otherwise empty room. All of that hadn’t actually happened. It had just been a sick horrific nightmare that left him slick with perspiration and pants sticky. Harry tried to recall what happened after he’d come home. All he could remember though was that he’d been soaked from the rain and had simply stumbled in and collapsed onto his bed immediately falling to sleep.

There was his problem. He’d been wet with water. Voldemort had told him that he was made up of water too. Except Harry was still struggling to understand how the spirit could go from his lake to being in rainwater. He didn’t want to shower, but he also didn’t want to spend all day feeling filthy. It was with great reluctance that Harry got up to cleanse himself.

As water trickled down his back and chest Harry heard the thoughtful hum of the creature, “Have you been thinking of me _Harry_?” The boy grit his teeth and shook his head as he attempted to wash his hair whilst ignoring the other. A cruel laughter rang in his ears, “I am flattered my child to know how much I affect you. “

“Shut up,” Harry muttered under his breath but the laughter only intensified. “How about you tell me how you’re communicating with me through water. And don’t say you _are_ water because you’ve already told me that.”

“What have you done to deserve that knowledge?”

Harry was soaping his body now, “Your killer was Vernon Dursley.”

“My, I am quite impressed,” the voice sang. “Such a _brilliant_ boy you’ve turned out to be. I suppose since it is your last day I might as well. The reason for this communication being able to take place is simply because you bear my mark. I am able to take control of water if it is close enough to you and speak to you through it, even affect your thoughts to a certain degree.” Harry could hear the smirk in the creature’s voice. “Does that suffice?” The boy nodded. “I look forward to seeing you tonight _my little Harry_.” The endearment made Harry’s insides twist and churn in absolute disgust as it faded away. That monster had no right to call him such sweet things. Death was not compassionate but ruthless and savage.  

Harry stumbled out and after pulling on clothes headed to his quaint kitchen for food. How do you lull someone to their end? He could think of a number of ways to bring Vernon to his last breath but none seemed plausible. The problem was Harry needed to _not_ get caught. If he wanted to survive this, he couldn’t leave any traces behind that pointed to him as the mastermind behind his uncle’s disappearance. At least, not any evidence which would completely give him away as being the culprit. No matter what he did he was going to end up as a suspect. After all, he sort of actually broke into the Dursley’s house last night.

Harry set his chin down on his kitchen table as he let out a frustrated groan. He had sixteen hours until midnight and he still didn’t have a plan. It all depended on when Vernon returned though. The man was probably out on a business trip and depending on the hour he would either go directly home or the pub. Harry wasn’t about to go back to Privet Drive so he’d have to hope Vernon would be at the pub later tonight. But back to the main issue of getting the man to the lake. Perhaps it was possible to replicate how Vernon killed Tom. Harry could simply drug his uncle and then haul the man over to the black lake. Getting the drug would require a small amount of work, like using up all of last week’s pay-check, but other than that it was simple. It was all Harry could do really in such a short amount of time. As he went about his day though, a nasty feeling settled into his chest that refused to go away.

Tonight either his uncle would be killed or Harry would die in his stead.

* * *

 

The smell of alcohol wasn’t pleasant to Harry in the slightest. Too many terrible things were associated with it. This was what Vernon smelled of when a night filled with kicking and lashes and curses went too far. Feeling self-conscious, Harry covered his ribs which had once all been broken when this scent had covered the man. The hospital had simply been told Harry had gotten into a fight with some neighbourhood kids. Then when Harry was released, he’d been starved with the reason the Dursleys had to get the money back from paying for his medical bills from somewhere. Harry had never believed that though. It seemed to him that all that money went into feeding Dudley.

Sitting in the back corner allowed Harry to see everything that was going on. People came and went, exchanging words of conversation with one another. It was all so very boring. The pub was dark and the only light came as a red glow from the lights that matched the crimson colour of the seats. Such a shade was far too similar to eyes of Voldemort; Harry closed his own tightly trying to clear his mind of the spirit’s sinful touches inflicted upon his skin that very morning. The action though only made the feeling so much more vivid. He could feel nails digging in his skin and freezing lips against his neck. His jeans were becoming tight and it was all Harry could do to grit his teeth and purse his lips against the sounds that threatened to come out.

“ _I will make you drown.”_

Harry’s emerald eyes shot open. He wasn’t going to drown. Not today, not ever. There was no chance Harry would let Voldemort deliver his promise.

The bell on the door jingled softly as it was opened and Harry’s eyes gazed over at it. There was the man that would be the one to drown tonight. Vernon Dursley was looking terrible and hideous as ever. The cold fingers of fear clenched Harry’s heart viciously making his legs quake and fingers tremble. After tonight though, he wouldn’t have to cower in his uncle’s presence anymore.  

Harry waited restlessly as he watched Vernon down shot after shot as he talked to some other men. His fingers tapped impatiently against the table as the hours went by and still his uncle sat in the pub. If the man didn’t get up soon, Harry would be forced to take action. Perhaps just a few more minutes and he wouldn’t have to improvise.

The clock struck eleven and Harry was filled with dread. No, he didn’t want to talk to the man. He didn’t want to get even a couple metres close. But he was out of time. It was either Vernon or him and Harry had already made up his mind. Slowly and with his legs threatening to give out, Harry approached like a mouse crawling up to a lion.

“Uncle,” his voice came out quiet and meek. Cruel eyes looked over at him and Harry involuntarily flinched.

“Boy,” the man’s voice slurred by the effects of alcohol, “can’t you see I’m drinking?”

“Well, yes, but Aunt Petunia was wondering where you were.” Harry was hoping the many drinks had also affected Vernon’s mind. His uncle always seemed to lack common sense when drunk so hopefully it wouldn’t occur to the man that there was absolutely no way Petunia would ever ask him to retrieve Vernon.

The other responded gruffly, “Has she?”

“Yeah,” was Harry’s dumb response. He winced as his arm was roughly grabbed and the man bid the others goodnight. Harry was pulled out of there against his will and once behind the building thrown against the wall.

“Rotten imp! Disturbing me while I’m drinking!” As Harry struggled to stand upright, he was swiftly knocked down once again. His jaw stung from the impact and his shoulders braced themselves instinctively for what normally came next. Leather cracked down against Harry with a loud snap. Old wounds in his mind opened with every dreadful memory spilling out and Harry struggled not to whimper. “Should’ve drowned you in that lake too! Your parents cursed me to take care of you ungrateful urchin! Without you I would’ve had a perfect life!” Every sentence ended with another pelt of Vernon’s belt causing welts to rise up on Harry’s skin. His words echoed throughout his mind joining the other insults that demeaned him in the past. At the pause in the onslaught, Harry dared to look up. His uncle’s face was beet red with fury, every vein popping out of his skin. With a yelp, Harry’s throat was grabbed and his back slammed against the brick building causing his glasses to slip off. Desperately Harry tried to claw the chubby fingers off of him. The futile effort was met with knuckles knocking against his face. His eye was becoming blackened and his cheek purple with bruises. Darkness was settling in due to the lack of oxygen and Harry realised it was now or never.

Struggling, he pulled out his handkerchief already laced with the drug and shoved it against his uncle’s mouth and nose. The man tumbled backward from the force and Harry wrestled to keep Vernon pinned down. He hoped the drug would kick in soon. At the weakening of the other’s limbs, Harry rolled off and onto his heels as he retrieved his glasses. He watched the other with baited breath. Vernon wasn’t knocked out, but from his efforts to get up he appeared unbalanced and dizzy. Not wasting any time, Harry fished out Vernon’s car keys. Hauling the man onto his feet, he and dragged him to his car where he pushed his uncle into the passenger seat. Harry scanned the area for any witnesses, then quickly scrambled in and began driving.

He had half an hour.

 

* * *

 

The sky was clear over the lake, every star twinkling with light and the moon shining the brightest. Black water glowed with an ethereal beauty from the heavens reflected in its darkness. Trees swayed gently as the breeze went by calling Harry to bring his tribute forth. Vernon had lost consciousness during the drive over and it took quite every bit of Harry’s muscle strength to pull the thick body out of the car. Harry wanted to take a break to calm his nerves, but there was no more time. So he gripped the man’s arms tightly and began to pull him down the hill to his death.

Halfway there Harry had no choice but to stop in order to catch his breath. As he stood there panting, he looked at Vernon’s pathetic self. That man was the cause of every horrendous thing that happened to him. It had been his envy that forced Harry into this mess with Voldemort. He deserved a fate far worse than death for his transgressions.

So then why did Harry’s shoulders feel so heavy? Why was it so hard to breathe and his palms so cold and clammy?

Was this guilt?

Why would he feel guilty bringing this man to drown?

“Because it’s not right,” Harry murmured aloud.

He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t be the reason behind someone’s death. His humanity wouldn’t allow it. Numbness washed over his mind at the horror of the realisation. His body began to quiver under the weight of knowing that everything up to this point had been done in vain. Harry was going to die. Bile rose up his throat and the entirety of his stomach emptied as angry tears rolled down his wounded face. Someone once told him long ago that bad things only happened to bad people. What had he done to deserve any of this though? Was the sole reason of all his misfortune the simple fact that he’d been born?

It didn’t matter.

Harry carefully dried his wet face. If he was going to die, then he’d die standing tall and brave. He was not a coward running away from all his problems. Death would not take away what little strength he had.

Down Harry walked to his resting place, toward the black lake’s shore. There Voldemort stood in shallow waters, crimson eyes watching him. As he reached the edge the spirit spoke, “Are you not going to bring my murderer to me?”

“No.”

Voldemort tilted his head, “Why? You will die if you do not.”

As the creature leered closer Harry straightened his back standing taller, “It’s wrong. I haven’t the right to take someone’s life. The only one who decides what happens to their life is that person.”

“And you choose to give your life away?” The spirit reached out to take Harry’s face in his hands. A thumb rubbed across the bruise causing the boy to wince. “He hurt you. Don’t you want revenge?”

Harry laughed coldly, “He’s done more than this to me. Vernon Dursley is my uncle. When I was young, my parents died and I was left on his doorstep. I’ve been through hell and back because of him. Every time I close my eyes I can still feel him lash out at me, calling me worthless and good for nothing. For weeks I was locked in a cupboard under the stairs and starved because of him. Not once did I deserve any of that. I loathe him for it,” Harry paused to swallow the lump forming in his throat. “I want him dead. But it isn’t my place to kill him. If you want to murder him, go find someone else to bring him to you. I won’t do it.” The spirit listened silently as Harry spoke and now seemed to be contemplating what was said.

Another hand caressed Harry’s other cheek and wet lips kissed his forehead, “Poor child, you’ve been through so much. Yet here you stand before me accepting your fate bravely.” Those blood red orbs looked Harry in the eye, “I will let no one hurt you every again. You are mine.” Even this far away from the town, the ringing of the bells could still be heard as they struck twelve times. “But then, I told you didn’t I? _I will make you drown_.” Lips brushed the boy’s ear, “It looks as though you are going to learn what it's like to drown in darkness after all,  _my sweet Harry_.”

Voldemort gently grabbed Harry's hands, forcing the boy to wade in water that covered his ankles. “It feels cold and empty, like falling through a void. There are no stars offering hope, no wind tousling your hair. Your eyes are blanketed with the pitch black water as you fall deeper into nothingness. Then the darkness takes your lungs,” Harry was pulled to where the water stopped between his ankles and knees, “your heart, your head. It takes all of you. Whatever light you have left, it consumes and destroys it. You accepted your death bravely, but will you still fearlessly let its cruel hands extinguish your life?” Harry nodded silently. With a push, Voldemort forced him down into the water and Harry struggled to keep his body upright so that his head stayed above the darkness. The spirit descended upon him, straddling his hips and clutching at his head so Harry had no choice but to make eye contact. “ _You courageous boy_ ,” he purred. The corners of his mouth twisted upward in a fond smile as a tongue licked the bottom lip seductively, “Shall I give you something I believe you want?”  

Harry’s breath hitched as his ear was nipped and kissed, hands grabbing at his soaking sweater and lifting it. The boy fought against, grabbing at the other and trying to push away. “Stop! Just kill me already!” He let out a whimper as his jaw was cruelly held between sharp nails, blood seeping out from the wounds and trickling down his neck.

“Where would the fun be in that? You’ve such a magnificent frame; it deserves to be put to use,” the tone was deceitfully loving for lips came down roughly at his throat. “You gave your life away to me. I can do what I please with you now.” Harry’s sweater was lifted over his head and tossed to sink down into the black depths. “Clothes are useless in death anyways.” As the freezing water and night air met his skin, goose bumps rose on Harry’s chest. This couldn’t be happening. He was going to be taken by a spirit! Desperately he squirmed underneath Voldemort’s larger form slamming his palms against the other’s shoulders. But icy fingers clutched his own shoulders and shoved him underneath the water. He was held there thrashing violently for air for what seemed like an eternity before those fingers yanked him back up with a snap. Harry coughed and sucked in air weakly trembling against the other’s chest, his glasses askew.

His drenched locks were gently petted and Voldemort’s heartless voice soothed him, “Shh my sweet child. I wouldn’t do that again if I were you. Enjoy this _Harry_ , this will be what your final memories consist of. I will be gentle if you cooperate.” The other repositioned them so he was between Harry’s legs, with the boy’s forearms against the dirt being the only thing keeping the Harry’s head from being completely submerged in the water once again. His chest was kissed and sharp teeth tore into the flesh. Harry bit his cheek to keep from letting out any noise. Voldemort noticed and painfully grabbed a handful of Harry’s hair and yanked his head backward to where any farther and he’d be under again. “I want to hear you. It’s been far too long since I’ve had such contact with anyone. I am going to savour this whether you enjoy it or not.” It was either fight and be forced through the entirety of hell or give into the other’s desire and only scratch at the top level. As a nipple was sucked, Harry let the moans he was holding back come out. His hair was released from the cruel hold. “Good boy.” It was sucked harder and fingers buried themselves painfully into Harry’s waist to where they were going to leave purple fingerprints behind. Harry wasn’t sure whether to cry or groan. Noises of pleasure spilled out from his parted lips and tears streamed down his face as his body was wracked with silent sobs from this attack against his body. His belt was undone so that his jeans and pants could swiftly be taken off. The other’s head dipped into the water as his lips descended upon Harry’s naval. Involuntarily, the boy’s body thrust upward into the other. The action caused his hardness to rub against the other’s. At the freezing contact, Harry attempted to shove his knee against the spirit to push him off in vain.

As flesh was brutally bit into, Harry let out a cry and Voldemort rose above the water to speak, “You don’t learn, do you? There is no escaping this. Didn’t you give yourself over to me? Was it not out of free will that you chose this path? You have no one but yourself to blame. However,” he kissed Harry’s cheek, “I have grown rather fond of you. Consider this your last warning for if you continue I _will_ penetrate you with no gentleness whatsoever and no matter how much you scream and beg I will show you no mercy as I tear you apart one thrust at a time. Now,” hands forced Harry’s thighs to part, “will you cooperate?” And as Harry’s body quivered from his sorrows and the freezing temperature of the water and Voldemort, he gave a shaky nod not daring to look into the spirit’s face. “Keep your agreement.” His neck was ravished deceptively with kind affection. A finger shoved into his entrance causing Harry to squirm against it but as the hold on his thigh tightened he tried to still his body. “Relax,” the spirit cooed, “I’ll make fall into bliss soon.”

Harry failed to keep the whimper within, “It hurts.”

“Yes, it probably does a little. You’ve never had something push into you here before." The finger rubbed against his walls and Harry clenched dirt at the discomfort he was being forced to endure. “The odd feeling will pass and soon I’ll have you screaming in ecstasy,” Voldemort’s silky voice told him. As Harry got used to the probing finger, another one shoved in causing him to gasp. They pushed all the way in and then slowly came out only to thrust back in against his prostate. Harry threw his head back in a cry of pleasure as they ruthlessly hit that same spot again and again. All the while he kept having to repeat in his head that he was _not_ enjoying this. Everything he was feeling was only his body’s response; it wasn’t Harry at all. He sighed in relief as the fingers vanished entirely. But then his body became rigged as something much bigger prodded against him.

Feeling panic rise in him again, Harry grabbed at Voldemort’s slippery shoulders in desperation. Before he could push against though, a snarl came from the spirit and he slammed viciously into Harry tearing the boy’s inner walls slightly. Pain seared throughout Harry’s body and his cries were only broken by hiccups at the violation. The other didn’t relent in his brutal pace. Instead, he seemed to be driven on by Harry’s broken sobs. “I told you it would hurt. Cry as loud as you wish, it is sweet music to my ears.” A hand was put against the boy’s back to keep Harry’s upper half out of the water and also to press him tightly against the other’s icy torso. Harry reluctantly wrapped his arms around Voldemort’s neck to help keep himself from drowning as he continued whimpering and moaning at the other slamming into his frame. His prostate was abused with every thrust causing Harry not to be able to see straight and his throat being pained from his cries. How horribly euphoric something so vile felt.

His bottom lips became caught in teeth as they nipped and sucked. Black freezing lips took hold of his mouth though and as a forceful tongue slipped into his mouth so did water. It ran along his tongue and trickled down his throat filling his stomach and his heart rapidly beat against his chest in terror. There was so much pleasure and so much agony and Harry’s member throbbed as he suffocated underneath Voldemort. It was taken in a firm grasp and stroked in sync with the other’s thrusts. As ecstasy continued to build up in Harry, he was sent spiralling over the edge in a horrific climax. His walls clenched around Voldemort who grunted and tensed. As water continued to flow into Harry, and he could not help but gasp for air and the water began sliding down into his lungs. Everywhere he felt himself filling up with Voldemort, his mouth with water and his entrance with the spirit’s release. As lips let him go, Harry frantically began coughing up the black water in order to breathe once more.

His hair was gently caressed and his body held against Voldemort, “ _My sweet little Harry_ , it’s time to meet your end.” Arms circled around his waist and Harry’s limp abused body was pulled to where his toes could no longer feel the bottom of the lake. “Don’t struggle _my little one_ , just let me embrace you. Fall to sleep quietly,” the creature soothed him in his ear. “Perhaps you’ll become a spirit too. Won’t that be nice? You can keep me company for an eternity.” And Harry was pulled downward to be completely immersed in black water. His broken battered body couldn’t fight against it even if he still desired to. As he continued to fall into the pitch black void of emptiness and as water filled his lungs Harry thought…

_…so this is what it feels like to drown in darkness_.

 

* * *

 

Every child in Little Whinging knows the most important rule. Never go into the black lake. For if you do, you will become cursed. You’ll end up like Harry Potter who years ago went for a swim in the darkness only to go mad, returning a few days later never to be seen again. Some tales go that his body remains at the deepest part of the lake’s floor. Others say that if you go to stand on the shore at midnight and are really quiet, you can hear his cries in the gentle ripples of the water. The children whisper the warnings among themselves.

Don’t go into the black lake.

Don’t become like Harry Potter.

Don’t learn what it’s like to drown in darkness.     

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually written as I've been writing my other Harry/Tom fic, Simple Request (which is nearly done). So if you need to refresh from the darkness of this, you can go read that as it has a good amount of fluff in it. Thank you for reading!


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